


Long and Lost

by GoldieClaws



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Oneshot, Original Character(s), Original Non-Binary Character - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29950485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldieClaws/pseuds/GoldieClaws
Summary: Still distraught over what they’d seen at Nibelheim only three years prior, Malachite silently watches the world pass them by from their home within Corel Valley and ponders on a dream they once had.
Relationships: Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Long and Lost

**Author's Note:**

> **This oneshot was written in response to a writing prompt: "The world is a painting, and you are a colour I have never seen before."** and like my previous fic, is being posted bc I just think it's neat.
> 
> I kinda went with my own experiences for this one in terms of how certain people act in my dreams so if Sephiroth does seem a bit too soft, this is Malachite and specifically _their_ dreams we're talking about here lmao. So naturally he'll appear that way because it's how they view him. I do know how to write this catboy in his natural habitat I promise I just got caught up with writing soft catboy instead by accident ghfkjdghkdfg. Also Mal is friends with giant cat-pigs bc I say so (and bc they literally control a behemoth themselves but u know).

Malachite winced as the rays from the morning sun filtered through their window, blinding them. With a groan they turned over in their bed, pulling the covers close to them and pressing their face deeper into their pillow.

They’d been rudely ripped away from a calming and pleasant dream that was already starting to slip away from them, no matter how hard they squeezed their eyes tight to return to it. For just a moment that ever-familiar warm scent of leather was there, perfectly intertwined into the bedsheets before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.

When that feeling refused to return, they begrudgingly admitted defeat and got up out of bed. They rubbed their eyes and reached for their side table’s drawer, pulling it open to reveal a small notebook and pen. Taking both items in one hand, they walked out of the room and to their front door, grabbing a pair of boots on the way.

 _Still too early for breakfast._ Malachite thought, watching the clock tick to 6:47am. They sighed heavily and unlocked the front door.

Once outside, they were met with warm breeze that made the trees rustle softly, as well as the loud grunts and snorts of the various almighty behemoths that surrounded their small, wooden cottage. One by one the beasts look to them expectantly, evidently pleased their nightly brigade had chased away any other type of creature or animal that deemed it clever to try and harm their beloved human.

Slowly, Malachite walked up to the largest behemoth, the leader, that lay closest to their home, carefully dodging the horns as thick as tree trunks so they could place their hand on the beast’s snout. The behemoth looked at them with bright, white eyes that softened at their touch, curious to see what Malachite had to say.

“I’d like to go to the top of the hill, beyond the treeline.“ They said, to which the leader responded with a slow blink, then carefully raised her giant head away from Malachite and bellowed a command to her fellow behemoths.

Malachite rolled their eyes when all the other behemoths obediently got to their feet and moved out of the way to allow their leader to move to the front.

Whilst it was true they could run the risk of being spotted by either a monstrous bird or some kind of Shinra patrol when out in the open, they didn’t need the _entire_ pack to follow them to their favourite meadow. The most Malachite needed was only one or two, as their clothing was enough to allow them to rest against a behemoth’s side as they wrote out their thoughts into their book, allowing them to blend in without the risk of being spirited away. But by now, they knew the leader well enough to understand how over-protective she could be.

As they walked with the pack, a small group of behemoth pups appeared alongside them, snorting and squealing more frequently than even their elders, with their little noses twitching at the strange sights and smells of the morning air around them.

Malachite fixated on one particular behemoth pup, presumably the runt of the litter judging by their size, who occasionally lagged behind to allow Malachite to catch up. Its eyes were black, typical for one so young, but they seemed to sparkle every time Malachite fell back into step with them, which made Malachite smile softly.

It certainly wasn’t normal for anyone, let alone a human, to be accepted as a member of a _behemoth_ pack. In any other case, the person would have been torn apart before they could react with how fierce and territorial they knew the beasts to be, especially once Malachite had later found out that mothers would tell their children stories of big monsters who ate naughty children to stop them from getting into trouble.

They’d been _extremely_ , if not _exceptionally_ lucky to get this far without a scratch, but that didn’t mean they didn’t respect the power and strength something so small would one day have.

_At least I’m being well looked after, I suppose._

Eventually, the ground began to level out and the trees begin to shrink and vanish, now being replaced by waist-high grass. The leader finally settled on one particular spot where the grass had been flattened by the weight of the behemoths many times before, with all the other behemoths following suit, forming a circle where the pups could play safely away from danger.

Breathing out deeply, Malachite sat down alongside one of the smaller juveniles, their body practically shaking from the beast’s thunderous purrs.

They leaned back, gazing up at the blue sky and watching the clouds slowly drift by. The sun slowly began to warm them and once they were happy, they opened their notebook and began to write.

Actual nice dreams were incredibly rare nowadays, but then again so were their signature nightmares. Over time, they had been able to fill in at least two books of dreams, this one now being their third. They felt themselves crack a smile as they continued to fill in the page.

 _I guess leaving Shinra_ was _my smartest mood after all._

Now happy they’d been able to get last night’s events on paper, they were about to close the book and relax when something caught their eye. They froze for a moment, then slowly pulled the item loose.

It was a torn page from the first dream diary they’d written, dating back to three years prior and only two days after the events that had happened back then.

Back in Nibelheim.

Malachite bit the inside of their cheek.

Every time they considered throwing it away, something always held them back. It only helped to remind them of everything that had happened back then, so why hold onto it? All those gruesome images had burned themselves into their mind when seeing it all through Ego’s eyes. The smell of fire, metal and mako still seemed to remain, to the point they had been forced to simply live with it.

They screwed their eyes tight when they started to water.

 _What are you saying, you idiot? You know damn well_ why _you keep this thing around._

The put the book on their lap and after a moment of hesitance, began to read their old and somewhat faded handwriting. This, despite the memories tied to it. The guilt, the trauma, the hatred. It was all they had of him. Who he once was, not what he had become.

* * *

Malachite didn’t know where they stood, yet despite looking around themselves to better understand their surroundings, there was something about the white walls and stone pillars that was oddly familiar. As if they had entered a dream long since forgotten to time.

Slowly, they began to walk down the long hallway before them, light shining brilliantly through the impossibly tall windows, making everything appear almost heavenly. Birdsong filled the air and for once, Malachite felt at peace. All the worries they’d had in the waking world had vanished as though they never even existed. Here, they were safe, free from the dreadful reality that threatened to crush them in a vice-like grip.

Yet, as they continued walking, an odd feeling began to surface as they stopped just short of a large entranceway with open doors.

The world beyond, despite all the sounds around them, was simply an empty white void. The birdsong was as clear as could be, but there wasn’t a single bird or creature in sight, no matter how hard they strained and squinted in an attempt to make out a shape of some kind.

Defeated and somewhat frightened, they turned around to go back the way they’d come, only to stop dead in their tracks.

Sephiroth was there, only a mere few feet away from them, his black clothing making him stand out in an almost headache-inducing manner against the white. His face had that same soft and serene expression it always had, trusting and warm. His eyes alight with that same spark of life. Yet, Malachite felt themselves stiffen, pulling their arms to their chest.

He didn’t hold himself in the same manner he had when they’d last seen him deep within the Nibelheim reactor. Nor did he portray any sense of wrongness or have that same air about him after his time within the Shinra Mansion. It was almost as though the tragedy had never happened, and it terrified them completely.

Suddenly, he took a step towards them.

“Don’t!” They yelped, flinching away from him.

To their surprise, he obeyed and returned to where he’d been standing.

“I… I don’t want to see you again!” Malachite snapped, almost shouting and already beginning to hate how confidently they’d said those words.

Sephiroth stood still and quiet, his expression now unreadable.

“You’re lying, Malachite.” He said eventually, which made them breath in sharply.

“I don’t want to see you again.” They repeated, but their voice was already beginning to falter. “Not after what you did.”

He looked away for just a moment, his face still betraying no emotion. When he continued to say nothing in return, Malachite grew angry.

“I had to stop you from _killing_ people, Sephiroth! Don’t you _dare_ act like what you did was normal!” They could feel their eyes start to well up with tears, but somehow they held them back. “You think I want you near me after that!? To hear your voice after what you said!?”

Despite their words, Sephiroth proved unaffected.

“I wouldn’t be here if that were true, you know that.”

“I don’t control my nightmares.”

“Yet, this is a dream.”

“How would you know what I class this as?” The felt their skin prickle at his comment, despite knowing what he said was true.

At that, they noticed the small hint of smile, as though they’d just cracked a joke.

“Malac-”

“Don’t call me that. Not now, not ever.”

He turned to face them fully this time, seemingly genuinely shocked at their remark. He was silent for a moment, with the only sound being a low hum that had replaced the calming sounds from before.

“…Do you miss me?” His voice was softer, almost unsure.

“No.” They lied.

“Even who I once was?”

Malachite froze at the question, unsure how to react.

“Why does that matter to you?”

“Because, despite everything… The thought of seeing you again still crosses my mind, no matter where I go or what I do.”

“Y-you’re just saying that because this is _my_ _dream!_ ” they squeezed their hands into tight fists. “Real you wouldn’t say that. Maybe _before_ , but not now. I’m just… trying to find excuses to still love you. Because I don’t want to let go of you!”

“And I don’t want to, either.”

“Liar!” They turned away in anger, ready to disappear into the great white world past the doorway if it meant leaving him behind in this so called perfect dream, when suddenly Sephiroth leapt forward, grabbing them by the arm. They turned to face him, ready to snap or scream or yell, when his expression made them pause. Sephiroth’s eyes were wide, making him look almost desperate. His grip was tight, unwilling to let go but too weak to hurt them.

“’The world is a painting.’, Malachite. ‘And you are a colour I have never seen before.’”

Shocked, they stared at him with mouth agape.

“You recognise that line, don’t you?” He said. “From the poem I wrote for you when we first met.” He took a step closer towards them. “You said it helped you when I couldn’t be with you. Even when I had to leave for Wutai.” He let go of them. “Does it still hold that weight for you even now?”

Malachite looked at him, speechless.

Finally, they found their voice.

“…Yes.” Slowly, hesitantly, they put a hand on Sephiroth’s arm. He was delightfully warm to the touch. “Always have.” their eyes met and Malachite had to fight back the sudden surge of emotions that began stirring within them.

“Always will.”


End file.
